


Assumptions

by coolhandjennie



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Jaime/Brienne Appreciation Week 2017, Post-Canon, willy nilly use of book and show canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-12
Updated: 2017-10-14
Packaged: 2019-01-16 07:31:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12338253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coolhandjennie/pseuds/coolhandjennie
Summary: Just when Brienne thinks she's got everything figured out...





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Better late than never, right? I tried desperately to post during the actual days of JB Week but real life intervened before I could add the finishing touches, so here we are. Much love and gratitude to the fandom in general and JBO in particular for pulling off another top notch event. This story would still be in my WIP folder otherwise, so thanks for the incentive!

“So, what’s next wench?” Jaime asks Brienne as he settles beside her in their usual corner. They often meet for midday meal at the newly restored Smoking Log in Winterfell village, both of them going a bit stir crazy now that the war’s over. “Will you stay on with the Starks? Join the Queensguard? Run headfirst into danger as the unlikeliest of hedge knights?”

Brienne smiles at the suggestion before her expression turns wistful. “Go back to Tarth, I suppose. The Starks don’t need me anymore, and my father is still alive, so…” She shrugs.

The odds of coming out alive on the other side of winter seemed so slim, there wasn’t much point in planning for the future. Now that the war is won, possibilities are coming into focus and Brienne isn’t sure how she feels about any of them.

“What about you?”

Jaime is at similar loose ends. When Jon and Danaerys exoneratedhis past transgressions in exchange for battlefield experience and Valyrian steel against the white walking horde, he didn’t quibble over the lands or titles they stripped from him, seeing as they allowed his head to remain on his shoulders.

“I _have_ been missing the water,” he replie s with a sly smile.

Brienne nods soberly. She’s been expecting this. From the day Jaime showed up at Winterfell with his smirks and japes, it was only a matter of time until they parted once again. It seems like they’re always walking away from each other.

“You’ll return to Casterly Rock, then?” she surmises, wondering if he’ll rule in his brother’s stead while Tyrion, the newly appointed head of House Lannister, serves as Hand to the Dragon Queen.

Jaime’s smile turns sardonic as he heaves a sigh. “Tarth, Brienne. I’m talking about Tarth. Mayhaps your father is in the market for a new castellan,” he suggests with a smirk.

Other than a slight widening around the eyes, Brienne’s face doesn’t reflect her shock. Her chin gives not the tiniest of wobbles. Did he really even say it? Has she suddenly become susceptible to flights of fancy?

“Tarth,” she repeats in an expressionless voice.

“Tarth,” he reiterates in mock solemnity. “I saw it once, you know. On my way to Dorne. The waters are indeed very blue, though I’ve seen brighter sapphires.”

She can tell from the softened edges of his smile and emphasis on his last words that Jaime is paying her some sort of compliment. Brienne supposes she should be flattered—she _is_ flattered—but the combination of his sincerity and her inability to take a compliment fluster s her into silence.

Her impassive response masks a maelstrom of emotion churning within. He can literally go anywhere in the world, and he wants to come home with her? Not _with_ her, of course, but  if she’s going to Tarth, and he’s going to Tarth, then they’d be going to Tarth together, which means…Well, what _does_ it mean, exactly? Where  will he stay? What will he do? She doesn’t believe for a second he has any interest in becoming castellan, that’s for sure. 

Jaime continues staring but offers no further explanation. Brienne doesn’t want to make any assumptions but can’t muster the courage to ask more questions.

“I shall be glad of the company during the journey home,” she says. The upside of having a taciturn nature is that nobody expects much of a response from you most of the time. 

 

They leave Winterfell the following week, skirting the Sheepshead Hills on their way to Ramsgate, a two week journey even with a spare mount for each of them. From there they’ll set sail for the Stormlands, bypassing the Vale and plunging south through the Narrow Sea and the Straits of Tarth into Shipbreaker Bay. It will take them nearly a month to complete the trip.

Summer has truly returned to Westeros; on the nights they sleep beneath the stars, there is no need to huddle for warmth. A one handed knight and giant female warrior couldn’t be anonymous if they tried, especially not after their much touted heroics in the war, so it’s a good thing they aren’t in hiding or on the run for a change. They’re able to enjoy the comforts of roadside inns and local hospitality now that the realm is no longer at war and starving.

When they stay in an inn or book passage on a ship, there’s no need to be frugal or secretive by posing as husband and wife. Nobody is going to mess with Brienne, a recognized war hero and celebrated knight of the realm, just because she’s an unmarried woman. However she _is_ still a highborn lady, so  separate rooms help keep tongues from wagging. Brienne knows tongues will wag nonetheless, if only in confusion, because of course the old rumors persist. Not that anyone is foolish enough to let the words “Kingslayer’s whore” reach her or Jaime’s ears.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FYI this story is finished and in all honesty could've been published as a single chapter but I figured I might as well drag things out as long as possible to boost the tag. =)

Traveling together is much different this time around. Jaime still can’t keep his mouth shut but there’s no venom in his bite and by now Brienne is skilled enough in their verbal sparring to know when to parry and when to riposte. Having fought side by side throughout the war, they now move through every shared task with the ease of total familiarity. With less bickering to fuel their banter, conversation becomes a meandering thread they pick up and put down over the course of the journey.

“I must say, wench, I was rather surprised you chose to leave the Starks after all this time. Not that I’m not relieved.”

Brienne rolls her eyes and shrugs. “What more can I do for them? I helped secure their safety and return them to their birthright. Between Sansa’s wits and Arya’s skills, they don’t much need my protection. I’ve fulfilled my oath to their mother and though I love them as sisters, their home is not my home.”

“And Tarth is?”

“Tarth will always be my home.”

Jaime looks unconvinced. “It will always be the place where you were born, but you left for a reason, didn’t you? I can’t imagine returning to the Rock now.”

Brienne ponders the truth of his words. Her father indulged her reckless bid for independence in part because of her skill but also because he knew what little happiness she’d had as a child, and what little she was likely to find within any sort of marriage.

“Tarth was my refuge, the place where I could run away and hide when the world was tragic or cruel. It’s the septas and suitors who were awful, not Tarth itself. I can appreciate it now in a way I never could before. It’s more than some people have.”

“Indeed,” Jaime says wryly.

Brienne is mortified. “I didn’t mean—I wasn’t talking about _you!_ I just meant—”

“Relax, wench, I know what you meant. I’m glad for you, truly. I suppose I assumed that now you’ve achieved knighthood, you’d jump at the chance to hare off on some new reckless, honor-bound quest.”

And there it is, the crux of Brienne’s current plight. For as long as she can remember, her greatest wish was to lead a life of adventure, honor and duty, and her deepest fear was that she would one day succumb to society’s expectations. Yet here she is, turning her back on the life of freedom she’s legitimately earned, voluntarily putting herself in the path of what she’s long considered the most heinous aspect of family duty: marriage.

She frowns as she struggles to articulate her newfound perspective. “I’ve served as honor guard to a king and sworn sword to two great ladies. I satisfied my vow to avenge Renly and kill Stannis. I fought for my country, heard the horns blow when the Night King fell. I lived to see the dawn. What is left of knightly service? To serve as glorified body guard to the Queen? Train new soldiers for future wars?”

By now they are midway through their sea journey. Brienne and Jaime stand at the ship’s bow, watching the obsidian towers of Dragonstone rise into view as they round Claw Isle and enter the Narrow Sea.

Brienne trains her eyes on the monstrous architecture as she confesses her truth out loud at last. “Honor. Duty. Sacrifice. I thought I knew what those things meant when I left Tarth. Then I met you, Lady Catelyn, the Starks. Biter.” 

She shakes her head. “I was a little girl with a head full of stories, hiding from the world. It was easy to walk away then. What did I know of duty? When the first ravens returned to Winterfell with news of survivors, I knew what I had to do. Of course my father always hoped I’d give up my foolish notions and return home but he never demanded it of me. He paid my ransom without question or hesitation. He has always trusted me to do the honorable thing. It’s time to stop being selfish.”

Jaime barks out a laugh. “Wench, you’re the least selfish person I’ve ever come across. It’s bloody annoying. All you ever want to do is help people.”

She smiles but shakes her head. “I was just prolonging the inevitable. To be honest, I didn’t think I’d live long enough to see it through. I was so sure such a fate could only come at the expense of my pride and spirit.”

“And now?”

Brienne shrugs. “I know better. Marriage is not punishment for being born a woman, it’s my duty as the heir to Tarth. If I were truly my father’s only son, my duty would be the same. I’ve accomplished all the things I set out to do as a knight. My father has done right by me. It is time for me to do the same by him.”

“Well, I suppose the birthing bed is just as fraught as any battlefield,” Jaime says with some bitterness. “You do so love a cause you can die for.”

“Don’t be so dramatic.”

“Don’t act like it’s not one of my more endearing traits,” he teases. “Whatever happened to all that ‘I’ll only marry the man who can best me in combat’ bluster?”

“Even I have to admit that was a terrible idea. What if someone actually won? I’d end up with the likes of Gregor Clegane.”

They both shiver in revulsion.

“No,” Brienne continues, “I’ve got nothing to prove anymore. And my father certainly won’t be the one assessing my options this time.”

“That’s good to know. Not that I’d have to worry about that, of course, considering…” He looks at her knowingly.

“Considering what?” she asks blankly.

“Considering I’ve already bested you in battle.”

“I’m sorry, what?”

“Don’t play coy with me.” He laughs at her continued blank stare. “As if you could. I’m referring of course to our first and only sword fight, Lady Brienne. When I bested you on the bridge.”

Brienne’s mouth slowly falls open as his meaning becomes clear. “When _you_ bested—Have you lost your mind? Did you hit your head recently? I was _clearly_ the victor  in that exchange, Ser Jaime, regardless of your depleted state at the time.”

“Now now, wench, I think I can make a compelling case for a draw at the very least, if not outright victory.”

They bicker-banter their way through the rest of the journey and arrive on Tarth at dusk two days later. The gold and ruby sunset imbues Brienne’s homeland with a magical glow that warms her from within. She is home.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for all the positive feedback!

For all that she anticipates a warm welcome, Brienne looks almost shy as she steps from the gangplank to the dock where her father waits. Selwyn Tarth is a very broad, very tall man, taller even than Brienne. No tears are shed but both father and daughter are clearly quite emotional. Jaime hangs back as they embrace.

Her father brushes the scar along her cheek, his face permeated with deep pain and sadness. Her face has been scoriated by the ravages of war and men; his has been softened by age, his hair more silver than blond. Brienne sees the love and relief in his eyes and knows in her heart she’s made the right decision.

At last Selwyn turns his attention to Jaime, who remains standing at rigid attention.

“Father, I am proud to introduce my friend and brother-in-arms, Ser Jaime Lannister.”

Jaime bows deeply. “It is an honor to be welcomed on Tarth, my lord.”

Selwyn nods but makes no reply.

“You received my last raven from Winterfell?” Brienne asks. She finds her father’s lack of warmth toward Jaime confusing and wonders if he remains ignorant of the salient details. But he nods again. “Then you know how indebted I am to Ser Jaime for both my life and my honor.”

Jaime can’t resist butting in. “My lady, the debts between us have been owed and paid so many times over, I think it’s fair to call us even.”

Still not addressing Jaime directly, Selwyn turns on his heel and gestures for them to follow. “Come, take respite from your journey, I’ll send baths and food to your rooms. We’ll talk in the morning.”

Night has well and truly fallen by the time they reach the castle. After a month on the road and at sea, Brienne can’t wait to fall face first into a stationary bed devoid of fleas. Selwyn embraces her once more, then leaves them to the servants. She gives Jaime an awkward wave as a housemaid guides him toward guest quarters on the side of the castle opposite Brienne’s chambers. Jaime laughs at her teasingly and waves back before following the wide-eyed servant with gracious if uncharacteristic acquiescence.

In the end, Brienne can’t resist a hot bath in a tub that fits her frame, though it does not prove as relaxing as she hoped. Uneasiness prickles along the back of her neck for no apparent reason. She should feel the exact opposite of nervous, now that she’s home. Neither Jaime’s life nor her safety are at risk under her father’s roof, it is by far the safest place she’s slept since…well, since she left years ago. Regardless, she’s felt off-kilter ever since she and Jaime parted. It’s probably just because they’ve been cooped up and starved for other company, she reasons. It’s not like they’re _always_ together, only when they’re sparring or traveling or fighting an enemy or arguing. They spend loads of time apart, surely, but she falls asleep before she can remember the last time they went more than a few hours without seeing each other. 

 

Sleep does not alleviate Brienne’s tension. She and Jaime are summoned to her father’s solar before breaking their fast in the morning. They sit around a small table, a steaming pot of tea and plate of Brienne’s favorite biscuits on a tray before them. At first, Brienne is thankful that Jaime follows her lead, sitting when she sits and keeping his mouth shut for once in his life. But as the awkward silence draws out, Jaime’s circumspection sets Brienne on edge. It would seem his fidgety silence is a symptom of nervousness, of all things. What does _Jaime_ have to be nervous about? Selwyn’s polite, if cool reception last night assured them of his welcome. Brienne’s the one whose life was about to be upended.

She assumes her father wants to discuss her future and assess Jaime’s character. Instead, he stares Jaime down from across the tea table, his brow furrowed but not quite scowling, while Jaime meets his gaze with earnest patience. Selwyn is clearly enjoying Jaime’s discomfort. The knight looks more like a knock kneed green boy than a Lord Commander with two decades experience standing at attention in full armor and charging into battle. Brienne, looking worriedly between the two of them, has a bad feeling about this.

“Kingslayer.” Selwyn looks Jaime dead in the eye when he says it. It is both a statement and a question yet somehow holds no judgment.

Brienne interjects with dismay, “Father, that’s not—”

Selwyn slams his fist on the table to cut her off, rattling the tea and biscuits.

Jaime’s expression is composed if a bit strained. He doesn’t break eye contact. “Yes.”

“Do you know what they call her now?” Selwyn asks him.

Icy heat washes down Brienne’s spine. She’s sure she’s turning red as a lobster. How could she have underestimated her father’s ability to humiliate her?

Jaime swallows but holds Selwyn’s stare. “Yes.”

At this point Brienne’s head is snapping back and forth between them as if she’s watching a sporting match. 

“I don’t know what your plans are or what you think is going to happen here, but if you intend to stay on this island a day longer, it will be by way of the sept.”

“ _Father_!”

Brienne leaps from her seat with a half-choked screech that surprises a laugh out of Jaime, which he quickly masks with a cough. He composes himself but says nothing, replying only with a curt nod. Brienne is gagging in shock but he ignores her. When Selwyn shifts his attention to his daughter, his scowl softens but his expression is no less determined. Brienne pulls herself together and sits calmly.

“Father,” she begins again in her usual composed tone, “you are being quite ridiculous. Ser Jaime does not wish to marry me and to suggest such a thing is preposterous.” She falters a bit at Jaime’s affronted countenance. “Any rumors of…scandalous behavior are completely unfounded. I understand that Jaime’s honor has been called into question—unjustly so—but I would hope you never doubt my own.” Selwyn has the grace to look abashed. “People have always called me names,” Brienne reminds him gently, “and as you have always said, words are wind. They can’t hurt me, father.”

Selwyn smiles at his daughter, his face full of love. “I know, sweetling. But if he’s going to stay, he’s going to marry you.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading! I hope the payoff meets expectations. :)

Brienne sits ramrod straight in her chair, eyes wide, looking everywhere but at Jaime as she scrambles for something to say. Jaime takes a long, slow, deep breath. She shoots a quick glance in his direction, recognizing the resigned stubbornness on his face as a sign that he’s gearing up for heated debate. He clears his throat but doesn’t speak. Her eyes dart over and away once again and she somehow manages to turn an even deeper shade of red.

Jaime clears his throat once more. “So,” he says, “you’re against it, then?”

“Of course I’m—Jaime, what are you _saying_? _Against_ it? It’s outrageous!”

He cocks an eyebrow at her. “Is it, now?”

Brienne gapes at him like a fish above water. “Is it— _yes!_ Yes of _course_ it’s—How can you—Did you _hear_ what he said?”

Selwyn looks on in fascination, unobtrusively pouring himself a cup of tea.

Jaime meets her sputtering incoherence with a distinct lack of surprise. “He’s the father of a maiden whose reputation has been besmirched, Brienne, what else is he going to say? Between my reputation, _your_ reputation, no matter how unfairly maligned, and his need for an heir, well. You don’t have to be Tyrion Lannister to see that one coming.”

Brienne freezes as understanding dawns. “You knew,” she gasps. “You knew he would demand this.”

For once not teasing, he nods.

“But that means you—Why would—” Her jaw snaps shut as she pulls herself together. “Jaime,” she starts over in the hollow measured tone she uses as an emotional shield. Jaime despises this tone. “You know as well as I do it’s a preposterous idea. As if I’m not ridiculous enough.”

Jaime squints. “So I make you more _ridiculous_ , is that it?”

Brienne’s jaw drops again. “ _No!_ That’s not—Have you gone mad? Is that what’s happened? _Has the entire world gone mad?_ ” Her voice escalates until she’s shouting, causing Selwyn’s eyes to widen in surprise.

“It’s a simple question, Brienne. Either you want to marry me or you don’t.”

“I’m sorry, what question was that? I don’t seem to recall anyone _asking_ me anything. The only thing I’m aware of is bearing witness to two men who should know better, spewing complete bloody nonsense!”

She launches herself from her seat again to loom menacingly above her father and Jaime, who remains unperturbed.

“Alright then,” Jaime says, standing to face her. “Will you marry me?”

It’s difficult to tell who’s more surprised by the question, Brienne or Selwyn.

“You wish to marry me,” she states.

He nods.

Brienne laughs, if that’s how the hysterical trill she emits can be described.For maybe the first time since she’s known him, Brienne believes Jaime to be dead serious. She cannot understand it. Suddenly his odd remarks about not having to ‘worry’ about winning her hand in combat take on new meaning.

“I need you to explain to me how we just spent the better part of a month in extremely close quarters discussing this very subject without such a crucial piece of intelligence coming to light.”

Jaime shrugs. “I didn’t think you’d say yes. I considered sending a raven to your father before we left but that seemed a bit underhanded. Besides,” he adds with a wink, “we both know I’m much more charming in person than on paper. I hoped to make it as difficult as possible for either of you to dismiss me. And also, well, I was anticipating your lord father’s request, it’s true, as well as your vociferous response, so your newly altered stance on marriage caught me a bit off guard.”

Selwyn’s curiosity is piqued by this morsel of information but he keeps his questions to himself for the time being.

“And if I hadn’t changed my mind? What if I decided to stay in the North? Or go traipsing off on some pigheaded quest?”

“I would have stayed or followed regardless, my lady, as long as you desired my company.”

Brienne feels as if she’s standing at the edge of a great precipice. She struggles with many uncomfortable emotions: fear; helplessness; disbelief, not because she doubts Jaime’s feelings but because she can’t imagine him having them in the first place. She long ago came to terms with her own unrequited love for him. Yet she suddenly finds herself feeling…is it hope? She quashes the thought before it can foster and tries to make him see reason.

“Jaime, I know you’re adrift right now but don’t you think this is a bit extreme? You could secure a much more appealing match than…well, than me.”

Jaime smiles sadly. “I really couldn’t, Brienne. Not because I’m too old, too poor, or too handless to do better, but because there _is_ no one better.” He holds up his hand when she would say otherwise. “There’s certainly nobody who thinks better of me, despite my soiled, spoiled history. You think, what? That my heart belongs to another? That I can’t see who you are beneath that flat chest and ghastly scar? I see your goodness, your skill with a sword, the way you care about people, the way you fight for what you believe in. The way you look at me when you think I’m not looking.”

Brienne turns away in embarrassment but Jaime grasps her arm and draws her close.

“Do you see me looking, Brienne?” he whispers, unconcerned with the proximity of her very large father. “Do you notice the way I watch you? The way my eyes roam when we spar? Do you see the admiration in them when they follow you, the longing when you walk away? Do you see the way that I _see_ you?”

His eyes are an emerald abyss that threaten to swallow her whole. Despite her best efforts, Brienne can’t prevent the tears that spill down her cheeks.

Jaime brushes them away with his thumb. “I think not, or else you wouldn’t be talking to me about my better options. There’s only one option for me, only one reason I came all this way. And I knew that you might be against it. I understand better than most your deep desire for freedom and independence. While I can’t say I’ll _never_ chastise you,” he smirks playfully, “I know enough to expect chastisement in kind. I will never ask you to put down your sword. I will never ask you to be less than you are.” He hesitates briefly. “I love you, Brienne. I don’t want you to marry me because it’s your duty to your house or your father, or because you pity me. I want you to marry me because you love me as much as I love you, because even though you know this world is shit and sometimes I am too, you can still see the good in all of it.” He holds her closer. “Don’t send me away,” he whispers hoarsely in her ear.

Brienne’s arms worm their way around Jaime’s torso as she draws a ragged breath.

“I will never walk away from you again,” she promises. “I…I love you too, Jaime.”

They remain locked in loving embrace, reveling in the warmth and strength of each other, oblivious and impervious to rest of the world. Selwyn observes them a moment longer, then discretely exits the room. Not that they notice. Even if he didn’t believe his daughter’s honor remained intact, their love is undeniable. Brienne has returned much changed, as anticipated, though in ways he never imagined. Selwyn smiles, confident that it won’t be long until the halls of Evenfall echo once more with the laughter of children.

**Author's Note:**

> This story was already drafted before I knew about the "Family Jewels" theme for JB Week but I wanted to get in the spirit of things so I upped my adjective game & crammed 'em all in there. :)


End file.
